


Feather and Cap

by the_genderman



Series: My 2018 MCU Kink Bingo Fics [19]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Feathers & Featherplay, Hand Jobs, M/M, MCU Kink Bingo, Sensation Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-02 03:43:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16297502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_genderman/pseuds/the_genderman
Summary: For the MCU Kink Bingo prompt “Sensation Play.” Sam and Steve have some fun with feathers.(Also, title? I can't resist a bad pun.)





	Feather and Cap

“Ready?” Steve asks as soon as he’s gotten the last of his clothes off and tucked out of the way. He rechecks the little table next to his side of the bed, assuring himself everything’s still there, and nods to himself before turning back to Sam.

“Ready,” Sam agrees. “Show me what you’ve got again?”

Sam’s sitting not quite cross-legged on their bed, one leg straight, the other bent, and Steve’s standing next to it, hands on his hips, bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet. They’re both a little hyped up, maybe a little nervous. They’ve moved through the frantic honeymoon stage where all they wanted to do was get straight down to business and into the ‘let’s stop and think and maybe spice things up a bit’ stage. Hence the silk blindfold with elastic straps and small pile of assorted feathers.

“Alright, uh, first things first, here’s the blindfold,” Steve says, picking it up and handing it to Sam. “And now, the feathers.” 

Steve scoops up the assorted plumes and holds them out one by one. The soft, loose, filamentous ostrich feather. The stiff, scratching goose quill with the pointed tip. The little cluster of fluffy, downy plumes bundled together like a tiny feather duster. The long, firm but flexible pheasant tail feather. He knows Sam knows what each of them are, better than he does, so he just grins and quirks his eyebrows suggestively.

Sam grins back at him and lies down right in the middle of the bed, a pile of pillows under his head and shoulders. He gets comfortable before slipping the blindfold on, linking his fingers behind his head.

“I’m good to go if you are,” Steve says.

“Ready when you are,” Sam says and waits for Steve to select his first feather.

And waits.

And waits. 

Sam’s just about to ask Steve if he’s fallen asleep or something when the tip of the pheasant feather touches his chest. Just below the little hollow between his collarbones, and the feather bends, curling and flickering against Sam’s skin as Steve pushes it down. Sam squirms as Steve begins to twist the feather, dancing it over his chest like a calligraphy brush, painting invisible patterns. It’s a nice feeling, a softness that grows into a tickle as Steve draws the feather down onto Sam’s abs. He paints lazy curls and spirals that make Sam suck his breath in and shiver. The pheasant feather flits down to the point of one hip and withdraws. Sam whines reflexively at the loss of the sensation. 

“Don’t worry,” Steve says reassuringly. “There’s plenty more to come.”

Barely a moment later, and the little bundle of downy feathers has taken the pheasant feather’s place, twirling softly. Steve flicks the plumes over Sam’s hip and up his side in tight loops and zigzags that emphasize the soft fluffiness of the feathers. The feathers continue up, following the curve of his pec, crossing his collarbone, and sweeping up his neck to his jawline. 

Then, they’re gone as quickly as they arrived. The mattress shifts, and Sam feels Steve’s presence over him. Another flick of the downy plumes over the shaft of his cock has Sam giving a quick gasp. He hears Steve chuckle, a low, mischievous sound.

“Coming in for a kiss,” Steve says, and then his lips meet Sam’s. 

The little feather duster flits over Sam’s ear and he very nearly laughs into the kiss. The feather duster flicks away again and there’s another shift of the mattress as Steve (presumably) selects a different feather. The light press of the tip of the goose quill against the pulse point in Sam’s right wrist lingers for a brief moment before Steve drags the quill down Sam’s arm in a firm, slow scratch. It’s still a feather, it’s not going to cut him, Sam knows, but it’s a far different sensation than the fluffy down or the supple pheasant feather. Sam holds his breath and listens to the faint sounds as the feather scrawls up his arm to his shoulder. Steve scribbles the goose quill across Sam’s collarbones, tiny irregular twirls as he moves to his left shoulder and stills to a simple line again up to the wrist.

The goose quill leaves Sam’s wrist and there’s a moment of uncertainty, wondering, was that it? Three breaths elapse before the quill returns and Sam squirms and gasps. Steve swirls the stiff tip of the quill around one of Sam’s nipples, then turns the feather and drags the pliant vane over the sensitive nub. It’s a velvety sensation, smooth but simultaneously almost ribbed where the feather barbs zip together. Sam barely has time to catch his breath before Steve flicks the quill over to the other nipple and continues teasing.

“How’re you doing? Good?” Steve asks, pausing and checking in.

“Hnh,” Sam replies, slowly figuring out words again as his brain switches from experiencing and enjoying the feathers to processing Steve’s question. With the blindfold on, everything feels so much _more_ , and it’s a very good more. He’s hard, and he hasn’t even had Steve’s hands on him, hasn’t had more than the one brief, chaste kiss. “Yeah, I’m very good.”

“Good,” Steve replies and Sam can hear his grin.

The mattress shifts again and the ostrich feather makes its appearance, ticking softly, teasingly over and darting between Sam’s nipples. Light and airy in contrast to the stiff goose quill before it, the plume pirouettes down his abdomen and across his stomach, making Sam squirm with anticipation. The ostrich feather dances down onto one thigh, makes a few loops and swirls, then dances back up again, crosses his stomach, and repeats its journey on his other leg. Finally, the feather twirls back up and breaks contact with his skin. He waits breathlessly for Steve to decide his next move. 

Sam can’t contain a moan as Steve flicks the ostrich feather up the shaft of his cock in a tight zigzag, the delicate filaments fluttering against his skin. The feather flicks up, down, and back again. Sam’s hips buck reflexively and he groans as the feather retreats. He can still feel the ghost of it on him, but it’s not nearly the same. 

“ _Please_ ,” he asks, his need plain in his voice.

“Don’t worry, I gotchu babe,” Steve says. The mattress shifts again and suddenly Steve is there, on top of Sam, warm and steady and comforting. He kisses Sam and slips his hand between their bodies. Sam unlinks his fingers and wraps his arms around Steve’s back

Steve’s hand is gentle and calloused, a different—but very welcome—sensation from any of the feathers. Steve presses his cock to Sam’s and wraps his fingers around them both, stroking them and thrusting shallowly. Sam’s already so close to the edge, this is all he needs. He gasps and comes, Steve following a couple breaths later. Steve gives a sated sigh and slumps down onto Sam, solid and grounding. Sam squeezes him tightly, holding their embrace just a little longer.

Catching his breath again, Steve extracts himself a little reluctantly from Sam’s arms, rolling off of him. 

“You can take the blindfold off if you want, I’m gonna go get a washcloth to clean you up, ok?” Steve asks.

Sam just nods and makes a sound of agreement, one hand rising to push the blindfold up. He watches Steve stand up from the bed and cross to the bathroom. It’s a good view. It was a good evening.


End file.
